


Lass Mich

by theboywithdeerantlers



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Domestic, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, they all get better i swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-11-19 16:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11317116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theboywithdeerantlers/pseuds/theboywithdeerantlers
Summary: The problem with heros? Us ordinaries often appear to come up short. James Dunham is one of those ordinaries, called from the crowd of life to help serve alongside his childhood heroes as a medic. Feeling terribly out of place, and completely out of his league, he just might end up finding the right companions to take into battle with him. The problem with ordinaries? Sometimes by exposing their inner demons, those of our heroes come to light as well, but this time around? They’re going to tackle those mental monsters together.





	1. Time off & Water Bottles

**Author's Note:**

> I named this protag James Dunham, but wrote this in a more self-insert style while staying pretty gender neutral, so until we get to some of the sexier scenes, you're welcome to self-project/insert or be James :) My main goal is to provide more mlm content for our lovely german lion. 
> 
> Current yr 2077  
> James Dunham - Born 2054 - Age: 23  
> Reinhardt Wilhelm - Born 2026 - Age: 51
> 
> There is a large age gap (28 yrs) between Reinhardt and James. I shifted the timeline a bit to lower this gap for sake of comfort of others, but I headcanon that in the OW universe, people live for a lot longer than the average human life span of 79 because of medical advancement etc, etc. All characters are knowledgeable, consenting adults that have the ability to make rational decisions about their lives and who they involve themselves with.

Tick...Tick...Tick. went the monochrome clock on the nearby wall. Tick...Tick...Tick. It was late and your shift had dragged on for far longer than it should have, a replacement nowhere in sight. Taking another sip from your neglected coffee cup, you let your eyes flick off the data pad you were looking over, well at this point, looking had become staring in a haze. The clock read 3:35 AM; and despite not having an AM/PM indicator, you knew it was early morning as the moon had already started to make its descent, making room for the coming sun. From your observations of the moon, to the clock, and then finally to the data pad, your eyes wandered back around the small side office you were stationed at, pretty soon your mind joined your eyes and too wandered. Pretty soon, simple daydreams and musing turned to memories of how you managed to get where you are now.

It was only six months ago that you were hired on as a medical technician at Watchpoint: Gibraltar, aiding the doctors as they performed surgeries as a part of the newly recalled Overwatch team. Previously, during the Second Omnic Crisis, you worked in a local clinic, providing aid after the head clinician perished from wounds sustained earlier that month. The people of your small hometown looked to you and a small team of fellow doctors for help. Women, children, and the men helping fight the good fight against the threat of extinction by the God A.I., all came for one reason or another. You saw case after case, stitched wound after wound, until finally things took a turn for the worse. Your small clinic started to see people come from all around, knowing that you and the small team of medics were the best help around; and while you tried help to everyone, your efforts also attracted those only seeking personal gain. The bandits were swift, holding you and your defenseless team at gunpoint,knowing that there were too many civilians for anyone to try anything heroic. Within minutes, you were cleaned out. 

It was only a matter of time before everyone disbanded, your impromptu team splitting quickly and going their separate ways, it had hardly been a year into the crisis and you were only 18 and without a place to go. Your next four years saw you struggling to find a place or a cause. You continued lending your medical assistance to various humanitarian aid groups that would take you in exchange for a warm bed, and the fulfillment of all your basic needs, but these groups were far and few between, often being poorly managed and overwhelmed. Despite this, you kept your head up, determined not to let things get you down. With time you had earned yourself a considerable reputation. Then,  in 2077, Overwatch reached out to you, if you could call it that. You had been roaming through various towns, many abandoned or untrusting of outsiders; and just as you were on your way out of another small town, happening to pass by the abandoned local library, when you saw it. You couldn’t believe seeing your name on the barely functioning reader board. Overwatch was trying to contact a whole list of potential candidates to aid in their efforts. Seeing your name up there, you suddenly felt the earth beneath you, feeling grounded yet still in awe. With this revelation you felt like you had a potential, your life was suddenly given a purpose to fulfill, a chance to be useful again and maybe make a change on a larger scale.

“Dunham?” a voice snapped you back from your brief trip down memory lane. You looked up, noticing that while you were daydreaming your position had shifted to resting your hands and elbows on the desk in front of you, your hand supporting your chin, which now rested on top of your other arm after being jarred from your slacking.

“Dr. Ziegler!” You perked up, caught off guard by your superior. “Um…” a pause, unsure if the older woman had noticed you slacking while technically on duty, even at such an ungodly hour. She chuckled leaving you feeling sheepish as she moved to the counter behind your desk to pour herself a cold, old cup of coffee from the carafe. With her back turned, you swiveled to once again face your desk, fidgeting with the various office supplies already laid out neatly and properly, something you had a bad habit of obsessing over. Finally, she finished pouring and spun to face you, resting against the counter. 

While you had been here for almost half a year, you rarely saw Dr. Ziegler, her time being spent either in the lab or in the field, and you thought it was odd that she made an appearance in the medical bay at such a late time. You noticed the serious bags under her eyes, the pair of circular reading glasses doing little to hide them. You also took note of the ruffled hair, most likely from running a hand through it in frustration as she once again worked to solve another difficult medical advancement project.

“Ma’am, have you been in all night?” you hazarded, noticing that her lab door to the was still open, the florescent lights casting a glow into the darkened ward, a stark contrast to this office and her lab. She hummed a yes, not bothering to look at you and instead she pulled out a small data pad and began reading from it. 

“You’ve been putting in a lot of night shifts, Dunham,” she stated even though she was clearly looking for an answer, “Saving up for vacation time?” She chuckled tiredly, more to herself than anything.

“No ma’am, just helping out as much as I can.” She looked up, you stumbled slightly over your words as you continued “I-I, I’m still new here-”

“Clearly with your experience you’d want to be in the field? Or perhaps, a day shift,” she cut you off, clearly the exhaustion was getting to her. She paused, looking down apologetically at her coffee, taking another sip, and giving you the chance to finish.

“I-” you cleared your throat, “being new here means that I get last pick on duty roster, and night shift seems to be pretty unpopular.” To this she gave a half smile, nodding in recognition. She set her coffee down, bringing that hand up to tap a couple times on the screen in her other hand before turning to you again.

“Well, I’m ordering you to take today and tomorrow off, get your sleep schedule in order, then report for Med Bay duty at 0600.” Despite clearly giving you an order, her voice lacked any of the hardness that normally accompanied the dictation of strict orders. You felt that rather she seemed more apologetic, feeling for the dedicated technician and their short end of the stick plight. You sat there for a moment, before jokingly she asked, “Do I make myself clear?”

You stood up, saluting your senior, “Yes, Ma’am!” to this she chuckled and waved you off, taking her cold black coffee back towards the lab leaving you alone once again. When the door slid shut, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Dr. Angela Ziegler always made you nervous, she was brilliant; a fantastic doctor, and a caring individual that’d lend an ear, but she had this poised air around her operatives that both exuded confidence to which we could look up to, and also the feeling that she was constantly on a mission and was not to be trifled with. Mulling over the exchange, you quickly gathered your belongings, leaving the desk ready for the morning operative and started walking back towards the auxiliary crew quarters.

Within moments you arrived, noticing that it was now almost 5:00 AM and no one else would be up for the next hour. Punching in your access code, Athena chirped a simply welcome and your door slid open with a quiet swish. Fortunately, unlike the duty roster, you didn’t get the short end of the stick when it came to your living arrangements. With Overwatch quickly growing in numbers, the main crew quarters had reached capacity, meaning new recruits were given quarters in the aux. battery, which meant you got first dibs, so you snatched up one of the singles in a heartbeat. Discarding your bag on a small functional desk, you moved to sit on the side of your bed which was situated against the far wall, under a decently sized picture window. You took a moment to simply enjoy the dark, quiet room before noticing that rain had started lightly pelting the window, making a soothing sound against the metal walls and glass outside. You glanced back, looking through the window before moving to fall back fully on your bed. Minutes passed and your mind wouldn’t give in to relaxation, you felt pent up and couldn’t decide how to simply lay in your bed, so you did the only sane thing you could think of, deciding to go for a run. You threw off your med. tech. uniform and went searching for some workout gear along with your running shoes before heading out the door again, deciding against lugging around your water bottle.

The rain felt great. Something about the quiet, still, base mixed with your breathing and heartbeat made for the perfect soundtrack to this ungodly early morning. You had made your way around the various outdoor areas, glad not to be confined to a treadmill, letting the water mix with the light sweat you were working up. More time passed and soon you found yourself in front of the mess hall, thoroughly worked out and in need of some water, kicking yourself for leaving your water bottle in your quarters. Letting yourself in the back entrance, you were perplexed that the lights were already illuminated inside the main dining area. Continuing further, your damp sneakers squeaked slightly on the smooth linoleum as you made your way towards one of the large fully stocked fridges, quietly opening its door and grabbing a plastic water bottle. Twisting the cap off, turning from the fridge and nudging the door shut with your foot, you made your way into the main hall, already halfway done with your water. You were mid-chug when you crossed the threshold, eyes set on a nearby table when-

“Hello!” a large hand clapped you on the shoulder and a thick german accent nearly made you jump out of your skin, as you wheeled around to face whoever nearly gave you a heart attack. Had you been without a water bottle in hand, mid-drink, you might have simply yelled, stood stock still, heck even screamed but you suddenly became your own worst enemy. Apparently your body felt the need to expel what water you had been just about to swallow all over the person before you, and then proceed to choke on what water you did manage to get down, now how’s that for a defense mechanism?

Before you stood Reinhardt Wilhelm, former Crusader and reinstated Lieutenant, a man you and many others looked up to, literally and figuratively. At 7’4” to your 5’11”, the man stood above all those around him and was one of the dream team members that fought during the First Omnic Crisis. He was widely renowned, both for returning to fight the good fight and protect, but also as being a good source of morale. However before you wasn’t the man on the posters you proudly had hung up in your room when you were a kid. Rather, in front of you stood a very confused and now slightly soaked man. Between coughs, as you attempted to clear the water from your lungs, you noticed more about the tall german. He clearly had just woken up, given his usually swept back silver hair was a little matted and stuck out slightly; he wore a pair of simple sweat pants, a pair of sneakers and a light blue tank top that, with his impressive muscles, certainly fit him well. After a few more coughs, you were able to recover, however you feared that your dignity wouldn’t fair as well. With your face flushed red, either from the run or pure embarrassment, you managed to step back slightly and not make eye contact while waiting for the anger that would surely come. A few beats passed and suddenly you were once again nearly knocked over by the larger man's strong hands as he struck your back. He was simply laughing, a deep, wholesome and hearty laugh that resounded throughout the room. You couldn’t help but flush deeper, in what you were sure was embarrassment for being laughed at.

“Ahah! Es ist alles gut, mein Freund!” He continued laughing, calming down now, a smile still on his face. He looked down to examine the damage, your eyes following, and while there wasn’t a tremendous amount of water, most of it had ended up on his front. 

“I-I um..” You stumbled a bit, unsure what a normal, average person would do if they happened to accidentally spew water all over their long-time hero, and superior. “I’ll go get some napkins?” Your words came out sounding more like a question as you turned to leave through the doorway you had come through earlier. However, as you went to step forward, eyes not quite focused on your path ahead, you hadn’t realized that no longer had you been standing in the middle of the doorway, but rather off to the left, causing you to rush forward and slam your shoulder against the frame. Completely mortified that you essentially ran into a wall, you made haste in finding the napkins before returning, finding Reinhardt sitting at a table, patiently waiting. “Here,” You said, getting his attention. He took them happily enough, starting to use them to dry his shirt. “Sorry.” He looked up, puzzled for a moment, “For your shirt?” you reminded him, cracking a small smile at how quickly he had forgotten. Silence fell over the two of you, simple and quiet, not nearly as uncomfortable as you had imagined things would go. Soon, he had used all the napkins you had brought, his tank-top relatively dry once more. Feeling as though the moment was coming to an end, you stood up, ready to make your escape and hopefully not manage to make even more of a fool of yourself.

“Moment mal,” The man called, making you flinch a bit and turn back towards him, worried that he was about to give you a lecture on how to properly treat your seniors, but instead he smiled pleasantly before continuing, “I never got your name soldier.” This caught you off guard, but your reflex kicked in as you stood a little straighter and recited your information,

“Officer James Dunham, Medical Corps. I’m stationed in Med Bay, under Dr. Ziegler.” He smiled again, nodding.

“Well, I hope to see you again, Officer Dunham!” He laughed again, this time not as verbosely, but with the same twinkle of mirth in his eyes. 

You took a leap, “Well, sir, I have just one condition,” he quirked an eyebrow, still smiling, “anywhere but Med Bay.” To this he laughed, another strong, resounding laugh, one you found without clear reason strangely intriguing, but regardless you joined him. The moment soon passed, and you found yourself leaving while waving goodbye, as you headed back to your quarters, still smiling.


	2. Laundry and Good Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more character development for James as he enjoys his first day off in a long while. Sorry not a lot or Rein this chapter, but I had tons of fun writing the interactions between Tracer and James.
> 
> Trigger warning for a really minor stress attack.

_ ‘1 PM?’  _ You thought while looking bewildered at the standard issue digital clock before setting it back down on the floor. With eyes bleary from sleep, you heaved yourself out of bed, shuffling over to the built-in metal wardrobe before grabbing your toiletry bag. You figured, seeing as how you hadn’t bothered to change out of last nights workout gear, a shower was in order, and, after taking a hold of your shirt to run it over your face and clear some sleep out of your eye, laundry suddenly became priority number two.

After a brisk walk to the communal shower block, you quickly discarded your gym gear into a left behind laundry bin and sauntered off to stand under one of the shower heads. A minute later and you were happily basking in the warm water, thankful to be getting the grime and sweat off while also taking a moment to think about last night. It had been awkward, to say the least. You remember painfully that you hadn’t been able to sleep for a good hour or two afterwards, and despite your nagging fear that you may be overthinking the whole exchange just a tad, you couldn’t help replaying the exact moment you turned and spewed water all over the great Reinhardt Wilhelm! Thankfully he had been a good sport about it, which thinking on it now, wasn’t all too out of the ordinary. While you hadn’t interacted much, it turned out to be a decent end to a long day, even if your dignity felt a little scathed.

Pretty soon, the water you were standing under started to chill, and you decided that you’d spend a good chunk of time thinking on the whole thing sometime later, knowing already that it’d be on your mind for a good couple of days to come. Sighing, you turned off the tap, and proceeded to finish getting ready, soon returning to your room refreshed and definitely better smelling than 15 minutes ago. Stashing your toiletries back in their rightful place, you set the laundry bin you had snagged earlier on your bed and started picking up various items of clothing that were ready to be washed. Minutes later you had a decent pile of clothes, ready for the wash. Humming a simple tune to yourself, you collected a last few articles, some fabric softener, and a detergent pod, making your way towards the laundry room.

Situated only a five minute walk away, the laundry room looked more like the local laundromat; slightly dingy, with a machine or two always out of order, plus it was practically empty. You say practically as there was no one else in the room, save for one; Lena Oxton, better known as Tracer. The spunky young brit was laying across a set of metal chairs near the sidewall, an arm slung over her face to block the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the yellow tinted windows. The nearby machine was decently loud, so she hadn’t noticed you walking in till you ended up giving the chairs a playful little nudge, startling her awake. Naturally, almost like a cartoon character, she startled right off the chairs and straight onto the floor.

“Mph! I’m up, I’m up!” she whined, her voice muffled slightly as her face was turned towards the window as she pouted slightly from being so rudely awoken.

“The floor, really? You couldn’t just wake up like a normal person?” you chuckle, knowing the pouting was only for show as you walked over to the nearby washers, setting your bin atop them. She grumbled a bit, but quickly sprung up, bubbly as always. She walked over as you started loading the machine up, shoving everything in at once.

“Course not! That’d just be boring, ya know?” she quipped, “Speaking of boring, what are you doin’ up? You normally wake up just in time for dinner.”

“Got ordered to take a day off.” You said simply, more focused on pouring out the right amount of fabric softener. You glanced over when you didn’t immediately hear a response.

“You taking a day off? Wow, next thing you’ll be telling me is you got transfered to the day shift!” you struggled to keep a laugh in, quickly looking back to the machine in front of you, popping the detergent pod in, a smile threatening to break though.

Lena Oxton was certainly a character, another poster child for the overflowing enthusiasm of Overwatch, but certainly more approachable then you had originally figured. She actually had been the first person to greet you, taking your hand and giving the grand tour along with her pal Winston, mere seconds after you arrived. With her excitable and bubbly personality, mixed with your own down-to-earth mentality, you two became fast friends. However, with her being such a versatile operative, she was often away on field assignments, meaning time spent together was far and few between, but it still made you happy when she would always send along a cheesy-wish-you-were-here postcard.

Remembering that the girl, now sitting on top of the machine next to you, was looking for an answer, you finally let the smile you were holding back break though alongside a snort, cracking up at the way she leaned over; like a child when you’ve gone ahead and mentioned the word ‘candy.’

“ I can’t believe it!” She slugged your shoulder, pushing you slightly as you laughed,”You cheeky little bugger, when were you going to tell me?” she smiled, clearly happy to have you join the land of the living, instead of being stuck with graveyard shifts. “You’ll actually get to perform your duties as an M.T.! We should go for a drink, I’d have you legless in no time.” you smiled, knowing perfectly well that she’d be flat out drunk before you could get your second glass down.

“Rain check? You know I would love to, but I’ve gotta get my sleep schedule in order first.” You returned, pressing a few buttons on the washing machine before hopping up onto a similar one across from the one you were using, now facing Tracer. She scoffed, mock hurt in her eyes.

“Yeah, I get it, I get it. Poor Tracer, gonna ‘ave a drink all by her wittle ol’ self ,‘eh?” She pouted again, clearly forcing a thicker accent for comedic effect. You just laughed again, quickly settling into comfortable conversation, while the machines droned on.

You both were interrupted later by one of the dryers going off, Tracer zipping off to collect her now dry clothes, this made you look over to see how much time was left on your wash. Once she had shoved all her clothes into a laundry bag, not bothering to fold anything, she came back to where you were.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna get goin’, luv. I’ve got a mission coming up, so I should start getting ready.” She smiled, her eyes filled with excitement. You perked up at the word mission, looking to her, already opening your mouth to ask more before she continued, “Yeah, I know! They’re kinda being hush hush about it, but maybe they’ve posted more to the boards?” She paused for a moment, clearly thinking, “Hey, while I go finish getting my stuff together, think you could check up on the ol’ mission boards? She asked, both of you knowing that she was desperately behind on packing and wouldn’t have time to get a briefing herself. Nodding, you smiled at the Brit, figuring that a walk to the main hall wouldn’t be a bad way to pass the time. “Well, it's settled! I’ll see ya later, kay?” She flashed another signature Tracer brand smile, walking backwards towards the door, a finger guns blazing with her laundry bag hanging behind her. You returned a mock version of her two finger salute, chuckling as she finally turned leaving you alone with only the washing machine for company. 

Later, deciding that working would be better than randomly taking a two minute walk only to check a screen, you popped out quickly to grab a few larger data pads, quickly syncing them up with the medical servers. You then returned to the laundry room, plopping down on some metal chairs to start going over the mountain of surgical reports you had decided to review and organize, a task you remembered you hadn’t finished earlier this morning before you were given leave.

You knew you were technically on leave, but heaven forbid you get behind on work, even if you usually managed to take on and complete more than your peers. But despite this, you still felt a larger pressure to perform; you weren’t a hero, you were just an ordinary that happened to be decent with a needle and thread. Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose. While it had been nice seeing Tracer, catching up after so long, you realized that you hadn’t done anything useful today, this already clearly eating you up inside. You were itching to get through today and tomorrow, waiting on the day when you’d finally be available during the morning. This new day shift giving you a purpose and the ability to actually help, unlike sitting up at ungodly hours filling out paperwork, and feeling useless. 

_ ‘Well, okay, no.’ _ The paper work was important, and so was being available at Med Bay should any midnight emergency occur. ‘ _ What would people have thought if I let all that slip? If some emergency happened or Dr. Zeigler needed a report suddenly? I would’ve failed them and be reprimanded swiftly!’ _ You exhaled sharply, admonishing yourself for getting riled up so quickly. Certainly you must have sounded desperate last night, and Dr. Zeigler took pity on you. ‘ _ I’ll just have to keep working harder, make sure she knows that I can earn my spot there.’  _ You hated pity, especially if it was aimed at you; all too often had people pitied your situation before the whole Second Omnic Crisis. To them you were just another poor boy without a future, and you knew you couldn’t stop till you proved them all wrong, making sure you could never be taken with pity.

You blinked, and then blinked again, suddenly realizing that your breathing had become heavy and your hands clenched tightly to the chair, one of the data pads on the floor by your feet. Taking a moment to just breath, a ringing in your ears still present, you collected the pad from below you, noticing a new notification had come in while you were having a moment.

**Two new messages. FROM: Dr. Angela Ziegler, Lena Oxton.** You perked up, shaking off a little bit of the sluggishness that clung after freak out, even a minor one like the you seemed to just have had. Tapping the two messages, you opened them side-by-side and read,

“I know I put you on leave for today and tomorrow but, I would appreciate it if you could access some physical archive records for me - I’ve attached a small list. Also, I believe you have a few surgical reports open and I need them for review once you’ve finished them. - Dr. Z.” You then looked over to view the message from Tracer,

“Hiya, luv! Just wanted to see if you checked the board??? No problemo if you haven’t, but I’d really appreciate it if I could maybe get an update!!! Thanks again!!” You chuckled, clearly the girl wasn’t aware of just how many question and exclamation marks were considered normal when texting; none the less, you had two people counting on you and you were happy to finally have something to occupy your mind with other than the drone of the dryer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legless - Extremely drunk
> 
> Also, thank you to PapayAd00d for first comment!! Such an awesome thing to see, especially considering this is my first Overwatch Fanfiction and my first work on AO3!  
> Remember folks, kudos and comments make the world go round! <3  
> (P.S.) We'll see a bunch more Reinhardt next chapter, I promise!


	3. Strictly Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for keeping up with the comments and kudos! They mean so much!! I'd just like to first applogize for the late update, but we finally get some Rein/James bonding time, so I hope it was well worth your wait! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and I'd like to thank my Beta-reader (I know you don't wanna be named, but I'm still super pumped you desired to join this journey along side me!!!) Let me know what you think, and I can't wait to keep providing this content for ya'll!

After dismissing the messages from Tracer and Dr. Zeigler, you flicked through Gibraltar’s online archive, hoping that the records Angela had asked for could simply be printed out in her lab instead of you having to request the original physical copies from the archives. Sadly however, the records were physical copy only, and required a clearance level above yours. After closing out of the webpage and setting the data pad beside you, a few beeps borrowed your attention; the laundry machine had finished and your clothes were ready. You got up and quickly unloaded, sorted, and folded the now freshly washed and dried clothes, putting them nicely into your laundry bin. By the time you finished, you realized that more time had passed than you originally thought, you glanced down at your watch cursing mentally, the archives closed in just thirty minutes!

“Well, I better get over there before they close. I hope they won’t be a stickler for clearance, I’d hate to come back to Dr. Z empty handed...” you trailed off, confused as to why she would need restricted records in the first place. Deciding to worry about it later, you took off, laundry bin and all, knowing there wasn’t time to rush back and drop it off, not noticing that you had left the data pads behind.

You moved quickly through the base, awkwardly sidestepping a few groups as you tried not to bump them with your basket. You felt awkward, sure, but you were too worried about how you were going to make it in time, the administrative building that housed the archive being a good twenty minute walk away. Eventually you made it, deciding to take a shortcut through a side door connected directly to archives instead of going through the admin building lobby. When the clear glass door opened for you, you were greeted by the cool A/C, clearly on full blast to combat the somewhat oppressive heat and humidity outside. Stepping inside you found yourself in the tiny lobby, a simple metal desk with a console to one corner, a kiosk standing beside it, and a few metal chairs aligned to the wall opposite; which was strange as you figured there wasn’t need for a grand lobby, much less any lobby at all. Noting that the only thing manning the desk was a  _ Be Back Soon!  _ sign, you opted for the kiosk, setting your laundry down on a metal chair first before then walking up to it.

“Welcome to the Watchpoint: Gibraltar Archives, Officer Dunham! Operative Murphy is currently away from their desk, but please, make a selection.” Athena, the watchpoints AI instructed. You tapped a few times on the display, navigating to the search screen, before reaching behind you to grab one of the data pads stashed along with your laundry in the bin. After rummaging around without success, you turned fully to search, when that proved unfruitful your stomach sunk a little.

“I must have left them in the laundry room.” You groaned, trying to picture the list of record ID numbers in your head, but sadly you couldn’t quite remember the complex string of letters and numbers. “Athena?” You called out, turning and stepping back in front of the kiosk, “Could you access my messages from here? Dr. Ziegler sent me a list of records she needs, but I left my data pad in the laundry room.” you admitted, hoping the AI couldn’t tell how sheepish you were feeling; within seconds the message thread with Angela popped up and the list of record ID’s were copied over to the search bar.

“I’ve went ahead and copied the list you had mentioned into the search bar. To continue, please tap anywhere on the screen,” you did as told, impressed at how painless that turned out to be until- “I apologize Officer Dunham, but the records you requested are not accessible with your current clearance level. You mentioned that Dr. Angela Zeigler had asked for these, and taking a look at the message you directed me towards, I see that you were tasked with retrieving them. I will contact her now to verify this.” It had been smooth sailing until it came to actually doing what you had been asked to do, you groaned again mentally. Before you could continue in your groaning and griping, Athena returned, a triumphant blip returning your attention back to the kiosk screen. “I’ve completed verifying with Dr. Zeigler, and I’ve retrieved the requested records, however, an escort shall be called upon. Overwatch policy dictates that all officers and operatives traveling with over-clearance articles of information be escorted to the intended recipient to ensure sensitive information remains as such.” You deadpanned, but didn’t argue as the AI continued giving its spiel, knowing it’d be pointless to contest as she continued, “Seeing as how Operative Murphy is currently unavailable, allow me to ping the nearest available service-member.” The screen started pulling up a series of officer profiles, people you assumed were designated to substitute for the record escort, this went on for a little while until suddenly it stopped one certain “Agent: 3954_47. Wilhelm, Reinhardt.” Athena chirped, as if to say,  _ ‘I’ve decided your fate.’ _

“Wait, no. Athe-” You tried to protest before the screen went dark, reflecting you with mouth open ready to protest, but now you wouldn’t get the chance to do so. “Shit. Shit. Shit. It hasn’t even been twelve hours and I’m seeing him twice already? This has got to be some cosmic mind games right here.” You reasoned, clearly not thinking with logically, more focused on your impending doom. Normally, this wouldn’t have been a problem, the escort would walk with you to your destination, usually Dr. Zeigler, and then leave with no fuss or awkward conversation, it was strictly business. However, now you were inevitably going to have to conquer a good thirty minutes with Reinhardt. You could handle yourself for at least fifteen minutes without making some sort of foolish display, but thirty minutes? That was enough time to completely brand yourself as a weirdo in anyone's eyes, no less your childhood hero!

These thoughts continued as you waited, setting yourself down slowly next to your laundry, hands pressed together against your forehead, fate sealed. Since you were so wrapped up in your private pity party, you hadn’t noticed that a good five minutes had already passed, what’s more is you also hadn’t noticed a particularly large man enter the room and come to stand in front of you, his shadow casted over you. You continued not to notice, maybe mentally crying a little bit, until the older gentleman cleared his throat awkwardly, suddenly causing you to look up, wide eyed and completely off guard. You opened you mouth to speak, but nothing seemed to come out, clearly you hadn’t had enough mental prep time. Your saving grace however, came in the form of Athena reappearing on the kiosk, happily chirping away. 

“Ah, Lieutenant Wilhelm. Thank you for volunteering,” This caught your attention, filing this tidbit of information in the back of your mind while the AI continued, a compartment from the wall sliding out as it continued. “I’ve gone ahead and collected the records as requested. Please proceed to Dr. Angela Ziegler lab at your leisure.” Athena finished, you and Reinhardt only nodding in response. Having recovered considerably from your shock, you went over to the compartment and inspected the contents: 12 five inch binders and 4 fully stocked folders, certainly this had to be a mistake, at least that would be the case if you hadn’t known Dr. Zeigler as well as you seem to do. Figuring that Athena dismissed herself, you started collecting the binders in stacks of three, bringing the first one over to your laundry bin and setting it gently inside, doing the same for another stack and all the remaining folders, leaving the other half of the binders for Reinhardt to help you with.

“Ah, easy does it.” The german called as you went to pick up your laundry bin full of clothes, binders, and folders, clearly he wasn’t expecting you to be able to handle the load. You hadn’t had time to stop after hearing him call, instead you just went right along in picking up the bin, looking over, slightly confused at him. It struck you as somewhat amusing, seeing the tall man a little stunned before he shook it off, grabbing the remaining binders. 

“Got ‘em?” you teased slightly, clearly not being able to help taking advantage of his previous shock. He only nodded, looking straight ahead with a light red dusting the tips of his ears; this only made you chuckle, mostly happy that you managed to impress the much stronger man who clearly wasn’t use to not helping so much as he normally did. Your chuckle, unknown to you, made Reinhardt break his static staring aimed at the wall to look down at you, intrigued by your laugh before he himself laughed, brushing off his previous embarrassment from underestimating you.

Pretty soon you two fell into a comfortable silence as you both made your way towards the Med Bay and Dr. Zeigler’s lab, nodding a few hello’s every now and then to people as you passed by. Thinking on it for a moment you reasoned that people were getting off their shifts and either heading for a bite to eat at the mess hall, heading for a drink at the canteen, or just relaxing in the community rec room. Twisting your arm slightly to look at your watch, hand still gripping the side you tried to spy the time from your watch, but the glare of the setting sun reflected off the glass re-routing a sunbeam directly into the one remaining good eye of your fellow traveler.

“Ahah! Trying to take out my last good eye now, are we?” the older german joked, giving you a smirk as he ducked his head to the side out of the beam's path. Your eyes went wide, completely caught off guard by the man’s joke, but his smirk brought out something playful as you narrowed your eyes in concentration, arm twisting again this time to purposely aim the light back at him. You gave a triumphant cry when you managed to briefly strike his eye again, making him cry out in exaggerated anguish before he sped up to avoid the range of your watch, you quickly increasing your speed to match. This back and forth, striking and speeding went on until you came to round a corner, the shade ruining your source of ammunition, this however didn’t stop the two of you making a full fledged race out of the whole  _ ‘strictly business escort duty.’ _

Within minutes the two of you reached Dr. Ziegler's lab, Reinhardt barely managing to touch the door with his shoulder before you, his longer strides clearly working to his advantage. Breathing heavily, both taking a moment to catch your breath and set your stuff down, the taller man couldn’t help giving a pure hearty laugh, a hand coming to rest on a knee as he leaned over, eyes crinkled in mirth, voice resounding around the metal walled hallway you occupied. This laugh, you noticed, seemed a little more carefree and joyous than the others you had heard him give. This made you perk up a bit, quickly coming to realize that you might have to separate a good segment in the back of your brain to keep track off the growing amount of information you noticed concerning the older gentleman. After he had calmed down a bit, he clapped you on the back, a large hand lingering as he spoke, “Ahaha! You almost had me! I’m sure you’ll beat this old dog one of these days!” His voice made you smile, glad to hear that there was possibly a chance to try the man again. You both broke out in laughter once more, his hand still not leaving your shoulder as you continued catching your breath, but for some reason, your face continued to flush red, but most likely from the exertion of running and carrying all this heavy stuff you concluded. The laughter only died down when the door you were standing in front of swished open to reveal a very confused, and no better rested Angela Ziegler, standing behind a trolley on wheels. When this happened, you felt Reinhardt’s hand leave your shoulder, a twinge of disappointment poking lightly at your gut.

“Reinhardt, Dunham? I had wondered what all the noise was about. What are you doing here?” The woman questioned, clearly not happy to be interrupted, but not upset enough to actually warrant a hostile tone.

“Ah, Segen!” Reinhardt spoke, the hand that had previously been on your shoulder now went to pick up the binders he had set down once the race had finished, “I was just escorting Officer Dunham here, you requested some records, ja?” He confirmed, recognition flashing over the woman's face as she looked down at the cart she had been pushing for this very reason.

“Yes! Good. Athena called earlier to confirm, but why are you escorting him?” She looked between you two, still confused before you piped up,

“Well, Lieutenant Reinhardt was selected to escort me to your office as the records you requested were above my clearance level to access, we were just following protocol, Ma’am.” you spoke resolutely, your answer clearly being enough for the doctor as she motioned for you both to set the records on her cart, uttering a curt thank you before pulled the cart back into her lab, the door closing promptly behind her, leaving you and Reinhardt alone in the hallway again. This caused you to knit your brows together, slightly offended that the woman had been so dismissive.

“Don’t worry. Angela can get like this when she’s preoccupied with a project. Come, we best leave her be.” Reinhardt reassured you, motioning for you both to leave. Still a little confused but less hurt, you followed the taller man from the hallway you had been in till you both stood outside the medical building. “Well, I suppose that does it for my escort duties!” he said matter of factly, but then pausing for a moment he continued, “It seems to be late in the day, I was on my way to meet up with a few friends, you’re welcome to join.” He smiled hesitantly, this time almost as though he was unsure of himself, unused to making such an offer.

_ ‘Oh god, he walked with you all this way and must feel obligated to invite you along, you should just decline before things get awkward again’  _ you reasoned, anxiety twitching a little.

“Aw, I’d love to, but I uh,” you paused, trying to come up with an excuse, but you were still torn between wanting to go with him to hopefully hear that wholesome laugh again and wanting to save everyone involved from what you were sure was going to be an awkward time. Eventually your anxiety won, “I’ve actually got some surgical reports to catch up on, and I actually left them sitting in the laundry room, plus while I may have forgotten those data pads, I’ve got this laundry to put away, and uh…” You trailed off awkwardly, noticing that you had started rambling, again. A few emotions flashed over his face, and while he was quick to return a smile, you couldn’t help the creeping feeling of guilt settle in your stomach, mixing with the anxiety as you caught his look of hope flashing to dismay when you had turned him down.

“Nächstes Mal dann!” He replied cheerily, not yet turning away like you both had expected him to. He looked at you for a mere moment longer, his cheery, somewhat forced smile softening to something a tad more familiar of a fond gaze. You held eye contact for what felt like a solid minute before you looked down, your face heating up unexpectedly.

“I’ll uh, see you around, yeah?” You spoke quietly, gently breaking the man from whatever train of thought he had had, his ears unnoticeably tinting red again. He laughed, sounding more like his usual self as he nodded, smiling broadly before leaving you to stare after his retreating form, your mind still reeling from  _ whatever  _ had happened just now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Segan - Mercy  
> Nächstes Mal dann - Next time then


	4. Day Shift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING! PANIC ATTACK!  
> I've clearly marked where the attack begins and ends. Please make sure you're aware and understand that if you're not okay with reading accounts of a panic attack in vivid detail, please make sure you take care of yourself and move past the section I'm referring to. Thank you <3
> 
> Guys, I am so sorry for this being so late! I was really lacking the creative motivation for a while, but your comments and kudos brought me back! So I wrote extra to make up for being away! Also, writing the panic attack scene, I pulled a lot from experience, and it was more draining to write than I originally anticipated. I hope I did it justice in describing just how mentally they can play out.
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

“Thank you for coming in, Agent Hansen! Let me know if that arm keeps bothering you, you hear?” I called after the retreating form of a fellow agent, one who had tragically broken their arm just a few days ago. Your smile dimmed a little as you closed out of the consultation page on the data pad in front of you, setting it down on the lower part of the two-tier desk, taking a moment to breath a happy but tired sigh, thinking back on yesterday.

After your time with Reinhardt you had gone back to your room, butterflies in your stomach; you just chalked that up to missing another meal unfortunately. While you were sure that the hunger wasn’t keeping you up, and surprisingly you weren’t kept awake by the guilt of turning Reinhardt down, but rather you were more nervous about your 0600 shift at Med Bay, causing you to lie awake far longer than usual. You remembered waking up well before your alarm, taking a quick shower and standing eagerly outside the door to the Med Bay, a whole ten minutes early, naturally. When the clock turned 0600, Athena greeted you and you got started on the tasks that Athena received from night shift and Dr. Z. Most of these tasks involved reconciling reports left from last night, taking inventory, and checking on patients in the Recovery Ward, which was down the hall from the main ER-like area. You happily plowed through the reports, a veteran pro from the nightshift, and quickly walked the ER to make sure supplies were all in order. You then moved to the stockroom, a data pad in clipboard like fashion, and made sure none of the new nightshifters nabbed anything. Once everything was in order there, you went to check on some of the patients, the time being a now reasonable 8 A.M.

You quietly entered the Recovery Ward heading to check the duty roster at the nurses station in the center of the room. When you approached one of the desks, you startled a bit when you peered over to see a nurse tapping quietly on a data console. They only looked up briefly to smile tiredly and pass you a data pad with the patient files and duty roster, glad to see that their replacement had arrived. Offering them a quick thanks, you gave the nurse room to gather their things and made their way out, leaving you alone. It had been just a moment, surrounded by the wiring consoles and beeping machines when Dr. Angela Zeigler herself came flowing into the room, graceful and angelic as ever. She glided over to the coffee machine, starting it up, and grabbed another nearby data pad before heading to the first of the glass walled recovery rooms. You took this as your cue to also start, seeing a few other nurses come in and start to go about their day. 

Looking at your roster, you saw your name listed as  _ Shift-Manager & OR Spec. 01.  _ This meant that you’d be floating between the ER/Clinic and the Recovery Ward while also being on deck should a surgery needed to be performed, meaning that you’d be providing assistance to Dr. Zeigler during operation. Your nerves buzzed at knowing this, hopping on one hand that you wouldn’t get the chance to be put under such scrutiny and pressure while also secretly hoping you’d get to see Dr. Z in action as she worked her magic! However, you set those feelings aside as you pulled up the patient list of those in the RW; Miles, Alexander being your first stop.

You looked up to familiarize yourself with the RW, having spent so little time in here compared to all the late hours in the Med Bays ER/Clinic. You noticed earlier that there were eight desks in the center of the room, enclosed by a two tier desk with gaps in between that allowed for travel. Outside of these desks the room was lined with glass partitions, dividing the patient rooms from the hallway in between the nurses station and the room. Making your way to the last room near the right side of the room, you tapped the glass a few times to wake the display, bringing up patients profile and making note of the medical history and allergens, like a good nurse would. Tapping an icon to the left of the profile, toggling the shades in the room, you swiped your hand to dismiss the patient profile and entered the room quietly.

“Good morning Mr. Miles.” You smile lightly as the man in front of you grumbled and slung the thin hospital grade sheets over his head, leaving you to quietly check and record his status. You went through checking IVs, pain levels, any questions or comments, all the standard fare that comes with recovery, eventually finishing you flashed a small smile. “Thank you for making this easy, you know how to reach us.” You turned and left, proceeding to do much of what you had just done with the remaining patients till you made it to the last room on the far left corner where the right wall met the left wall. You were just about to bring up the profile before your eyes focused past the glass to look in on the room where you noticed Dr. Z already walking out, not yet noticing you were on the other side. A little frozen in place, you waited to see if she’d exit the room, you hadn’t yet had the chance to talk to her about today's shift, this only being your second time before your night shift streak. The door swung open and Dr. Zeigler, only slightly startled, quickly flashed you a perfectly practiced professional smile.

“Ah. Dunham, good to see you. Could you close the shades for this patient?” You nodded, reaching slightly behind you to tap what you figured was the shade toggle. “No, the shade, you hit the lights” she corrected, a hint of amusement in her tone. Facing towards the glass you awkwardly corrected your mistake, waving sheepishly to the patient inside who now was sitting up looking to see why the lights dimmed and not the shades. The good doctor only nodded, moving to stand in front of the nurses station, handing her data pad to a kind black haired woman sitting behind a desk. You followed, also handing your respective data pad to the woman, thanking her before following the doctor again as she walked the corridor towards the Clinic. “Tell me, how does it feel to finally be back on day shift? I hope you don’t mind being a floater. I figured you were capable, and it’d keep you busy.”

“Yes! Thank you again!” You piped up, happy to have the chance to express your gratitude. “Are there any surgeries scheduled today? I didn’t see anything in the reports I picked up from RW.” She nodded, pulling out a small pad similar to the one that she used to get you on day shift on the first place. Quickly fumbling for your own, you pulled it out, letting her send you the updated schedule.

“You’ll be mainly assisting me and Dr. Fawkes, and we’re set for 1600 in OR 1.” You nodded, looking over the details. “I’ll see you then, Dunham.”

You waved, “Yes, Ma’am!”

After that small exchange, the day progressed quickly, and you mainly found yourself in the clinic providing consultations for minor things, upset stomachs, headaches, etc. Despite not actually having the proper official credentials yet, Dr. Zeigler herself had brought you on board alongside others, noting that the real word experience you all had gained during the Second Omnic Crisis was vital to the small but growing Overwatch team. As head of the Medical Corps, she was also able to pull some strings and get a doctoral training program approved, one of her own design; when she approached you a couple weeks after you joined with the offer to take part in this program, you took the chance. However, sometimes you wondered if you were keeping up; the program meant long hours pouring over training and medical journals and meeting the extremely high expectations of a swiss mentor, not to mention the fierce competition and rivalries that broke out among some of your peers. However, you figured that if you had made it this far, you must at least be doing something decently right by her and the program. In fact, today was going to be another step in that program, one of the requirements called for assisting in at least 30 surgeries, and so far you had 7, seeing as how most surgeries took place during the day. The only comfort was that you were well on your way to completing another requirement, reading and reporting on past surgeries.

Pretty soon, 4:00 PM rolled around, and despite feeling quite drained from the 10 hours of your day shift, you felt a buzzing deep in your gut as you scrubbed in. You pushed your way through the double swinging doors, and was suddenly aware of everyone's eyes on you.

“Glad you could join us, dear.” Dr. Fawkes sneered, arms deep in the chest cavity of the patient. You opened your mouth to apologize, but the middle-aged man jerked his head calling you over to help. On your way over to him, all the eyes that were previously on you had moved back to being occupied by what they had been focusing on before you had come in, you also noticed that Dr. Zeigler wasn’t present. “Well come on, doll. Some of us are trying to perform an appendectomy, not take in the sights.” The man called, next barking orders to another tech. Huffing in frustration, you knew you were in for a long afternoon.

After that, the operation progressed smoothly, the only noise were commands and the vitals monitor. However, you started to pick up on the stench of alcohol, coming from Dr. Fawkes. A little wide eyed, you glanced over to a fellow technician that stood on the other side of the table. You made eye contact, furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head slightly towards the doctor, still focused on the patient. The other tech just formed a thin line with their mouth, and shook their head as if to say,  _ there’s nothing to do about it. _ You couldn’t help but opening your mouth slightly in shock, before quickly closing it, biting your tongue in the process, causing you to step back holding your cheek. The tech only looked apologetic before returning back to look at the doctor. You must have made a sound when you bit your cheek because Dr. Fawkes looked up making eye contact with you his eyes slightly glassy, and breath absolutely reeking of an indiscernible mixture of alcohol, and you knew there was no doubt that this doctor was performing surgery while quite under the influence. Wide eyed, with mouth firmly closed shut, you could feel your heart rate skyrocket as Fawkes removed his bloodied and gloved hands and turned towards you fully, slightly swaying. He set down the scalpel on a tray, before approaching you, invading your personal space, the stench of alcohol making you gag a bit. Rooted to the spot as Fawkes leaned towards you to speak in a harsh whisper gave you the chance to notice just how slimy of a man was in front of you. His hair was greasy and combed over to one side, and his face and neck was pockmarked with razor cuts, and you could tell he was wearing an extremely cheap cologne that clashed terribly with the alcohol but overall just fit the image in front of you. 

“Whatever you think you think you know, is wrong. You know nothing.” His words slurred ever so slightly, but his tone dripped with smugness as he continued, “You young hotshots think you can take the moral high ground so easily, that you can call the shots. But, you don’t know shit. I am the puppeteer. You breath a word of this to anyone, including our dearest Dr. Zeigler, I’ll cut your strings and have you expulsed from this program before you can blink. Because honestly, who would the medical council believe? A world renown surgeon, or a green horn technician looking for any leg up in this program?” As he spoke, you could feel yourself shaking, the edges of your vision blurring as you focused on the opposite wall. 

Trapped, you were rooted to the spot and you couldn’t tell anyone what you’d seen, you were trapped. When he turned away from you, you were able to take a shaky step back, tears already forming blurring your vision further. The last thing you could focus on was him snapping back towards you suddenly, “Get out of my sight!” he bellowed. With that, your legs finally responded and you quickly walked out, trying to remember to breathe and not break out into tears in front of all your colleges. You kept walking, still refusing to let anything appear out of the ordinary, despite feeling quite sure that it was obvious to anyone passing by how close to losing it you were. You turned a corner into a dark room, noticing the only lights were fluorescent and LED, you figured you had come across where the vending machines were housed. Already losing grasp of the physical environment around you, now that you were away from any prying eyes, you managed to fit yourself in between one of the machines and the wall in the back corner, before the floodgates suddenly broke open.

**_(ATTACK BEGINS)_ **

With how little you were able to see before, your vision having been blurred from how already overwhelmed you had been, you figured it better to just squeeze your eyes shut while you rode out this storm. All you could feel was your heart taking up your airways, threatening to jump right out of throat but not before suffocating you. Your heart rate was accelerated and filled your ears with the sound of it beating. The hum of the machines around you joined in alongside the buzzing of any and all your thoughts, too jumbled and incoherent to process or comprehend.You needed to feel grounded, you already purposely put yourself in a tight corner to feel some sort of physical contact surrounding you. The cool metal of the walls were pressing flush against your hot skin. This wasn’t enough. You pressed your hands to your face, not noticing the blood from your still gloved hands diluting and mixing with the tears streaming down your face.You moved them from your face to grip your thigh tightly, the bouncing of your leg jostling your upper body into coming in contact with the wall behind you repeatedly, your spine arched out as you curled in on yourself and continued rocking. This wasn’t your first attack and you knew you weren’t doing what you had practiced, but the physical contact with the back wall shook something loose. You felt like your lungs weren’t filling, despite the heavy and fast breaths that desperately attempted to bring you back under control. You felt pressure building in your lungs, as you continued taking these ragged breaths until,

_ “Breathing is the process of respiration, during which air is inhaled into the lungs through the mouth or nose due to muscle contraction and then exhaled due to muscle relaxation. You’re forgetting to exhale.” _ A woman's voice rose up out from the buzzing, you didn’t know whose voice this was, but it was familiar, motherly, and the only non-indistinguishable sound at the moment, your voice soon joined the other woman’s,  _ “Inhale through the nose, hold, exhale out the mouth. Again.” _ This mantra continued, until the woman's voice faded and you could only distinguish your own among the humming of the machines around you.

**_(ATTACK ENDS)_ **

All at once, you felt the storm dissipated, and as quickly as the attack had come, it left. Eyes feeling heavy, you took in your surroundings, noticing that you had lodged yourself in the back break room just outside the medical building. Thankfully, the room was hardly utilized  explaining why it was dark when you had stormed in here all of a sudden. Slowly you heaved yourself up off the ground, muscles sore as though you had gone on a particularly hard run. Once you reached a standing position, you brought a hand to your face, noticing that it was wet with tears, and (once you had brought your hand down to examine it) apparently blood. You hadn’t realized you had run out of the OR without scrubbing out, granted the circumstances were a little out of the ordinary, but now you had to find a bathroom before anyone saw you. Shoulders sagging, you made your way out of the room, looking both ways before exiting out into the hallway. You quickly found yourself a bathroom and headed straight to row of sinks, tearing the gloves off and disposing of them in the wastebasket. You stood before a white porcelain sink, quickly turning the water on full blast and dipping your head down to start splashing water in your face. Shaking a bit from exhaustion, your gripped the sides of the sink and brought your head up to look in the mirror to inspect the damage. Your face was flushed red, but the blood was gone, but your eyes were pretty bloodshot from the crying. Figuring you could blame it on your contacts, or something in your eye, but all things considered you physically looked undisturbed. Roughly drying your face with paper towels, you tried to bring some feeling back to your body other than numb and exhausted. Taking another look in the mirror, a disappointed set of eyes stared back at you before a grumbling interrupted your pity party plans. You brought a hand to rest over your stomach, figuring that it was at least worth it to grab a quick bite, but the dread over having to possibly interact made a little knot settle in your stomach.

Leaving the building you noticed that it was dinner time, your attack having lasted much longer than you ever thought. You trudged to the mess hall, careful to perk up and wave a small hello whenever you came across someone. Pretty soon you arrived, and entered right behind another group of chatty operatives and agents, happy to slip into the crowd unnoticed as they made their way into the mess hall. You grabbed some decently nutritious food, and exited the kitchen area into the main hall, ready to head back to your room before from across the room you caught a certain 7’4” german man standing up and waving to you, clearly calling you over. The knot in your stomach grew, but you still smiled a little to yourself at the man's actions. As you approached, you noticed the wide grin he was giving you, making you break out in a bigger smile as came up to stand before him. From across the room, you couldn’t have seen who the man was sitting with, but now that you were closer, you could see clearly that he had been having dinner with a couple of old comrades of his. Anna Amari sat, giving you a gentle smile as she met your eyes, looking to Reinhardt as he sat down, then back at the ornate tea cup and saucer she had in her hands. Next to her sat Torbjörn Lindholm, the short Swedish man giving you a civil nod before returning to his meal.

“Dunham, it's good to see you!” His cheery spirit came through quite clear, and you couldn’t help feeling a little happiness that he still considered it good to see you after all these encounters. Your much smaller smile was still up, but you could feel it growing stale, you quickly came to a more neutral but engaged face as he motioned to introduce the two people sitting at the table with him. After more official hellos and how-do-you-dos were exchanged, Reinhardt scooted over and offered you a chair.

“Oh, goodness. I appreciate the offer, but I need to get back to my quarters,” You said, waving a hand in front of your face, signaling it was alright to keep going on without you. “I still have some reports to finish.” Your voice came across tired and clearly diminished compared to your usual demeanor. This caused Reinhardt's face to fall from a quirked eyebrow with an offer to a more serious and concerned expression, you could only smile weakly as if to answer a question you didn’t have a good answer to, you hoped he’d let it go. Unfortunately he wasn’t buying it and stood up making you look up to meet his eyes, Anna giving you two a knowing looking taking another sip of her tea. The taller man only motioned for you to follow behind him as he started to walk out of the mess hall into an adjoining hallway where he turned towards you, arms crossed over each other and an eyebrow quirked waiting for you to spill the beans. Having already mentally prepared yourself to lie, you took a breath, letting the tiredness flow through your voice, your nerves unfrayed from exhaustion.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you to worry? I just had my first day shift, and I don’t think my body has fully adjusted.” You felt bad for lying to the man, but you figured it was a much better alternative than exposing how mentally fragile you could be. Which if you did, would lead to more questions about what had set you off, and then you’d have to tell him about what happened in the OR and you’d lose your spot in the doctoral program, so lying was truly the best option at the moment. 

Still not impressed he, finally spoke up, “I thought your shift ended at 1400? Why didn’t you just go back to your room and sleep?” Not expecting him to keep this conversation going, you were reeling for an answer to his question, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

“I took on a couple more hours for Linda, she said she had a date tonight, so I told her I’d take a couple more hours of her shift. So I’m only just getting off now!” You chuckled, exercising your decent acting skills and keeping cool, the tiredness helping hide how anxious you would normally be. This finally seemed to satisfy him, as he dropped his arms to his sides and visibly relaxed, still looking slightly concerned over you.

“Would you like me to walk you back to your room?” He offered, voice low and cautious, but completely gentle. You were suddenly giggling, too tired to care that you, a grown-fully-fledged-genuine adult was giggling in front of your superior and friend (a question mark tied to that, of course). He looked a little taken aback, worried that he said something he shouldn’t have before you quieted down, giving him a sleepy smile and a nod, the two of you making your way through the quiet base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHOUT OUT TO MY AMAZING BETA READER (they, who doesn't want to be named) I LOVE AND APPRECIATE EVERYTHING YOU DO!!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> "Lass Mich" - Let Me.  
> "Es ist alles gut, mein Freund!" - It's all good, my friend!  
> “Monment mal” - Wait/Just a moment


End file.
